


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - Goodbyes are never easy

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [40]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, Colepaldi, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurting fluff aka hu-flu, Romance, Suppressed Feelings, about the time they met, about the time they will separate again, did it for the birthdays of J and P, fic no.40, kiss, looking back of what had happened till now, lost in translation ending, three chapter fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three chapter fic about Peter and Jenna's relationship from the day on they first met (Chapter 1), toward the day their ways will separate again (Chapter 2&3).  A summary of real happenings and fictional head canons of the last year. Birthday project/tumblr prompt/40th anniversary fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here we start...

**Author's Note:**

> I want to write a bit about this fic, which will be a three chapter fic. First chapter is mainly about everything that happened before Januar 2015. I wrote something like a summary. I tried to weave known facts together with fictional headcanons. How they met, the first time in the Tardis, stuff like that. You will get it while reading. I also mention my past fics, because most of them play in same universe, also I couldn’t mention all, but the ones I did, I linked to AO3. Feel free to read them (in a case you haven’t) but it’s not necessary. Most of you may have read them anyway, and I did it, because I think it gives this story simply more background and with that more emotion. I also broke one of my rules, I mentioned very briefly family and relationships, for remembering you how this couple simply can not be.
> 
> Also I worked up some old prompts, like ‘can you write their first day together’ or ‘the moment in the Tardis he gives her a kiss on the cheek’, I didn’t write it big, but it’s there.
> 
> I think that’s all you need to know. There will be a second and a third chapter. The second comes out between Peter's and Jenna's birthday, and the third chapter I’ll have ready on Jenna’s birthday, so bookmark this one, or subscribe, so you’ll not miss it.  
> Also remember this is RPF and fictional (mostly).

 

Goodbyes are never easy. Even Jenna had known, when she had started working with Matt and the Doctor Who crew, that he would leave the show at the end of the season, it nagged at her. They had become good pals over the time they had filmed together.

One had to move on, and Matt needed to go on as he once said to her, make new stuff, new experience. There comes the time to stop fight the monsters and to stop running down corridors while chased by Daleks. His time had come.

A few days later Steven told them about the next Doctor, about Peter. It was somehow a big thing, it was always when the current actor of the Doctor left. Jenna tried to carry it off well, that she was nervous about him from the start. The decision for him had surprised her. Not that she thought it was a bad one, it was the unknown what frightened her.

Would they get along with each other? Would it work out on the screen between them? Somehow her job depended on it. If they didn’t get along, it might was necessary for Steven to change the team, what meant she had to leave. In the end, she was only the companion. But she trusted Steven and his decision, even she believed to sense, that he was as nervous as her.

A few days later they announced him as the new Doctor and the hype began.

 

Since she had been so busy with filming Doctor Who, it was hard to catch up with many TV Shows, and so she had to admit later to him, that she had not seen much of The Thick of it or The Hour, his newest productions. What she had seen, she liked, also she had no real idea how he would or could portrait the Doctor. She was too busy anyway with letting go of Matt at the time.

 

Two weeks after they had announced him, her cellphone rang with an unknown number. It was him. He had her number from Steven and wanted to ask if it was okay, if he invited her for dinner, so they would at least meet once, before they would shoot the Christmas Special and the regeneration scene. She was glad Peter had called because she had totally screwed it up to call him, what had been her plan, but she had felt silly and thought he might was busy doing all the interviews now, after the announcement.

 

He picked her up at her apartment in London and they had dinner in a nice quiet restaurant. He was wearing casual trousers with a shirt that had a skull imprint, and a jacket over it. She liked immediately the way he dressed, all not so 55-vish.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a short hug. “Glad you could make it.”

 

It would have been a lie, when he would say, he wasn’t nervous at the time, because he was immensely. They had never met before, and he only knew her from Doctor Who, and loved the chemistry she had with Matt and so he was worried, if they could have the same on screen later next year.

 

When Steven had cast him, he had played the part of Clara and no one could tell at this moment if they would fit. Steven had not said much about his plans for the next year, this was all yet to come. Seeing her standing there, in her casual but nice dress, all that young, he quickly said, before sitting down; “Well, there will be no romance, that is for sure.”

 

The statement caught her off guard and a proper answer failed her for a few seconds. She had to admit, that she hadn’t thought one minute about the relationship the twelfth Doctor and Clara would have in the next series. What doesn’t meant, she had dismissed the thought of a romance or flirting - like between Eleven and Clara. It hadn’t been on her mind yet.  

She was not sure, if her face made an expression, that must have looked alarming, because he instantly added; “At least not from the beginning, I guess.”

 

He frowned at himself, fumbling with the napkin in front of him. Why had he said it in the first place? It was an easy guess and a topic that would haunt him till they would finally air in August 2014. His age and therefore their age gap. He was twice their age, his own daughter was only a few years younger than her.

Whatever she really thought about it, she didn’t let it get to her face, instead she smiled and said, “I am sure Steven will make the best out of the two of them.”

 

They ordered both the same, and laughed over it.

 

“Good sign?” he asked with a smirk.

 

“I am gonna take it as one,” she answered, relieved to know, that he was nervous all the same like her.

From there one, they chatted easily with each other. He told her about his casting, and that he had thought it was the most horrible one he ever had and he never thought he would get the role. So Jenna told him about her casting, and that Steven had looked for someone who could talk faster than Matt, what made him chuckle heartly. She admitted that she never had watched Doctor Who before she had joined the show, and it made her wonder that they chose her anyway. And that she had been nervous to be the next companion, after the leaving of Karen and Arthur, and she asked him if he was nervous.

 

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “Unbelievable nervous.”

 

She hadn’t guessed he would admit it so easily. There were men she knew, who would have tried to hide their insecurity behind some pithy words.

 

After the dinner they met again for the regeneration scene in the christmas special, and it was odd for everyone, especially for Jenna, to see him in Matt’s costume. It stung in her heart.

 

Peter could read her looks, he could see through the smile of hers. Suddenly it felt so uncomfortable in the clothes he was wearing. He looked down at himself, trying to smooth the west he was wearing, and met her eyes, smirking sheepishly. His head tilted slightly, his hands spread a bit from his body with open palms, like he wanted to tell her he was sorry. Sorry for replacing her good friend.

 

His gesture touched her, it helped her to accept that Matt was gone - at free will, and that it was now Peter, who would become the one person, she would see almost every day when they would start to film in January. He was about to become her ‘significant other’ and she would become his.

 

An assistant grabbed his arm to position him in the exact same spot Matt had stood, and another assistant took care Jenna wouldn’t leave her spot so they were a bit apart, but only two meters.

They locked eyes, without saying something for a few minutes, while the people on set brought everything in place and double checked the light, the camera and Peter’s position. He didn’t hear them, this set, busy as a hive, it was nonexistent in this seconds, while he concentrated on her. At this moment, he had arrived, he was ready to become, the Doctor, with her at his side, as his beloved companion.

 

Jenna wanted to walk over, give him a hug, smooth the collar slightly, but she was not allowed to move. Like Clara had been not allowed to touch the eleventh Doctor before he had regenerated.

It would be a whopper, it had been stated and there she knew it was not only relevant to the show. No, it would be a whopper in the real world too. This twelfth regeneration, the man who played him, now every move he did was public and it would affect her as well. Doctor Who was never more popular as in this moment, as they filmed this scene.

Steven had already told them about a World Tour next year, and she knew it would cost so much energy and Peter and her, they had to work this out together so they would not fail. You need a ‘significant other’ to not get washed up or left behind.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, waiting for her till she had returned out of the depth of her thoughts. “Are we gonna do this?”

 

This. More than just a scene. This. This was not some show. This was Doctor Who. They would carry Doctor Who into another 50 years - hopefully. Would create a new Team Tardis, that would always be remembered. Would do a World Tour together. A massive promotion with the two of them.

This. An epic oncoming year 2014.

 

She saw him smile, with pursed lips, and a glint in his eyes. A fire. There she knew, he could easily do this without her, but he didn’t want to. No, he wanted to do it with her, and only with her.

 

“Yes, we gonna do this.”

 

He gave her and the team a 45 minute tour de force of all kind of possibilities the regeneration scene could go. At one point he even sang to her.

 

When he did so, she had to bite her lips, to stop herself from grinning or worst to burst into laughter. He gave everything, already, for a two minute sequence and she only could imagine how it would be in the future.

When the director thought they had everything they needed, Peter needed to place his hands onto the console, taking a few deep breaths.

 

“That was…,” Jenna finally could come over to make physical contact by placing a hand on his arm. “Great!”

 

“Thanks,” he smiled at her, before looking up the core. She followed his looks.

 

“It’s yours now,” she brushed with her fingers some non existing dust from the metal. Remembering the morning, when the set had been still empty, and [she had shown him the Tardis.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2520203) She would never forget his delight and the short moment of awe before he placed his hand on the lever to become the Doctor.

 

“You mean my ship?” he stretched his back, his palms gliding from each corner of one of the panels to the middle.

 

“Your Tardis,” she watched him and his posture. As if he made contact with the ship, took it all in. Matt had also a relationship with the ship, also it was already different from what she saw of Peter’s behaviour. It made Jenna smile in appreciation.

 

“Ours,” he said after a few seconds, with a short side glance, not elaborating it further. And it was she needed to know. They would make a good Team Tardis.

  
  


The year past by, and Jenna was busy to promote the 50th with Matt and Steven, and Peter was busy finding an apartment in Cardiff and giving interviews about his casting as the next Doctor. Time went by fast and they met again in January for the read through.

 

Jenna spotted him quickly, when she entered the room. It was were the bulk of people were - surrounding him, asking questions, congratulate him again and so on. He had got a haircut, and was wearing this jumper that had holes all over and she chuckled in silence. Everyone else at his age would have looked like one trying to be young again, but not him, the damn thing looked simply right at him. He maybe didn’t knew, but he had a certain kind of style, that made everything he wore simply hip.

They locked eyes for a moment, and he stretched his neck a bit, one of his eyebrows twitching, then he excused himself from the others and wandered over to his stool where she would sit aside of him.

 

“Hey,” again he gave her a quick hug. “Nice seeing you.” He was the newbie and she the ‘older’ one. He relied on her, to guide her through this new experience.

 

“Nice jumper,” she rubbed absently his arm. “Fancy.”

 

He laughed, fumbling with the collar, “My favourite, actually. Not too trashy?”

 

“It’s cool, very. Do they have it in my size too?” she winked and placed her bag onto the ground.

 

“What are all the cameras doing here?” he suddenly asked. It was odd to him. He knew they sometimes made pictures while a read through, but having like four cameras around the room, that was new to him.

 

Jenna, rummaged around her jacket, giving the cameras just a short look, when she said casually, “Oh, these, it’s a life stream for youtube. They broadcast the read through live.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened, “What? Really?” When she grinned at him, he relaxed again, “Oh, that was mean!”

 

“Was it?” she sat down looking up at him, and he smiled forgivingly at her. “They always record the read through, for the confidentials and stuff.”

 

Twenty minutes later she watched him when he uttered the words, everyone in the room wanted to hear that day.

 

“Oh, you know who I am,” he began, after everyone had introduced themselves with name and character. “I am Peter Capaldi,” he paused, processing that he really would say it out loud. 55 years - what a time to wait for it. “And I play the Doctor.”

 

They clasped and laughed and Jenna found his mix of adorableness and graciousness taking.

 

The read through at this day was a success. Afterwards one could literally see what weight had risen from Steven and also from the new crew of the ship. They not only worked out together, they matched on so many levels. After two hours of reading, there was no one in the room who hadn’t seen it. Steven had placed them in one room, and had made them all watch how two elements became one furious, unique chemistry.

They complemented each other as acting partners and alone in the read through they pushed each other further as anyone could have thought. What would happen when they finally would start to film a few days later? What would become out of this spark, that was now set between him and her? They couldn’t know, no one could.

 

They imagined a firework, and didn’t know it would became a blazing wildfire.

 

Three days later they were about to shoot for “Deep Breath”. After the Tardis had crashed in Victorian London.

 

Peter was wearing the eleventh Doctor costume again, shifting around as if he felt uneasy in the clothes of the other man. They had made the clothes new of course, because Peter was taller, but to Jenna it was as if despite the new clothes, he could feel Matts shadow in the fabric.

 

“We need to do some pictures,” Steven showed up. “Outside at the parking lot.”

 

“Pictures?” Peter asked confused.

 

“Yeah, you know, for the BBC importance. They are here and want to see you too, so just go out, smile and point somewhere,” he shrugged and shoved them both into direction of the exit.

 

A few BBC bosses had came around only to take a first glance at Peter before shooting the first scene. A photographer stood in front of the halls, waving them over to explain them he would take some casual shots of them.

 

“What do I do?” Peter asked and looked at Jenna. “It’s a damn parking lot.”

 

“Show her where the Tardis stands,” the man smiled, shoving him a piece of paper in his hand. The script pages.

 

Jenna snickered and settled aside him, “So, Doctor, where did you park the Tardis this time?”

 

He played along, “Clara,” he rolled over his tongue, “I think …. there!” he rose his arm and the clicking of the camera started. “Or there?” he asked pointing into another direction, this time his arm crossed Jennas field of view and was directly in front of her face.

 

“Peter, your arm,” the photographer reminded him, and he did as if it had happened on accident and pointed into the other direction again only to do it again after a few moments.

 

Jenna needed a moment, she had noticed the first time, but had thought he was not aware of the high difference between them, and that his outstretched arm would cover her face perfectly. When he did it the second time, he glanced at him, he stared into the distance, suppressing a smile.

“Oi, you doing this on purpose!” she elbowed him softly.

 

He grinned, testing the waters with her. “Never!”

 

“Yes, you do!” she grabbed his arm and yanked it down. He sensed she was a focused young and intelligent actress, who would not be his silent companion, praising him all the way. In her eyes, she was his partner on eye level, and wanted to be treat like it. She wouldn’t allow him, to be all “Doctorish” but that wasn’t what he wanted anyway. He hadn’t taken the job to shine, he had taken it to have fun and to fulfil a childhood dream.

 

He stepped behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing, “Yes, I did.” And the camera clicked a few times more.

Maybe he already knew from there, that he would do anything to make her shine when on his side.

 

They returned to the set and settled into the Tardis, the wooden narrow box - not bigger on the inside. In dim light on a space of maybe one and a half square meters, him, Jenna and the guy who provided the smoke that would come out later of the front door.

 

“So, how is everyone?” Peter ruffled his hair, trying not to hit something with his elbows. “Nice and cosy in here, isn’t it?”

 

Only weeks later he would admit to Jenna - [in an stuck elevator](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2304149) \- that he hated narrow spaces, that the small room made his heart beat fast and made him bite his thumb. It was not the costume that made him shift, it was the dark, small space. The smoke that came out of the machinery the young assistant had in hand, didn’t helped at all. So he tried to be fixed on her, to win back his confidence out of her presence. Yes, the room would be become bearable because of her.

 

“You get used to it,” Jenna waved the smoke away.

 

He wanted to say something about it, but they called action and it was his turn to step out the Tardis and do his first words as the Doctor.

 

“Ready?” she whispered.

 

Taking a deep breath, he smiled and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek, “Ready.”

 

And then he was out of the door, leaving Jenna behind, all startled and touching the spot where he had kissed her.

 

Later they eyed the goofy picture they had taken earlier that would make it into the press and around the globe, and laughed about it.

“That’s horrible,” Peter rolled his eyes. “I mean look at us.”

 

He sat in the break room, and she just had grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, when leaning over his shoulders - even when he sat and she stood, he seemed taller to her.

One of her hands, landed on his shoulders, “I look a bit too love struck, ain’t I?”  Peter smirked, biting his lower lip, trying to ignore what she just had said. “I mean...not me. Oh, what ever,” she let go of his shoulder, opening the water bottle. “The background, look at it.”

 

There was a slight hesitation in her voice and in her moving away from him, as if she wanted to say something else to him, explain her words, but she decided against it. It was surely nothing anyway. And so he stopped looking at her, with a clearing of his throat that both yanked them out of their staring.

 

Time passed by and filming moved on. And with every day they spent together, the bond between them grew stronger. They were not only colleagues, they had became friends fast. They shared the moments between filming together, learning lines and working out upcoming scenes. When they filmed outdoors, they often joined the waiting fans for pictures and signing their stuff. Peter and Jenna operated well together, always knowing how to push the other further, knowing how to take each other when it came to criticism and when to leave each other alone when tired or in a low mood.

 

Most of the time they laughed together, spending the free time they had with making silly expressions of old Doctors and hiding on set from the runners.

 

It was all fun, and easy and a great friendship, till something happened. Till something shifted. Till the obvious finally found a way into their point of view.

 

They had fooled around in the break room, after Peter had discovered that Jenna was reading a script for a job offer after the Christmas Special. She had been tense and had been angry with him, after he had told her, that he wouldn’t do it, because between the special and the next series, there only would be a few weeks, and she should enjoy the free time.

He took her angerness and held it against her, made her hit him with the script, before playing the wounded boy. They scrambled with each other and out of nowhere they [had almost kissed each other. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2304233)

Luckily Peter’s phone rang and they broke apart. The moment was gone as quick as it had arisen, but it left them behind confused.

 

With that day, something had shifted between them. Not on the surface, more deep down. They talked and joked as usual with each other. Day in and day out.

What changed were the silent moments. When they sat in their stool, watching the other from afar while doing a scene or talking with fans or the crew. Little moments in the Tardis, in the dim light, when no one of them could find a topic to talk about, then the forbidden thoughts slowly started to dig their way up to the surface of acknowledgment. They never really talked about it then, they only stood there, looking at each other, reading it in the eyes of the other. Aside from friendship, and fondness, there was something else, unspoken and they knew, it would be better to keep it away.

 

It was inevitable, that they scratched the topic from time to time. As when [Jenna had been sick at home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2676347), and Peter had come over to bring her warm whiskey, vitamins and chicken soup. Giving her comfort, watching Doctor Who with her till he fell asleep aside from her. Till he had crawled out of her bed, knowing it was better this way. He explained her his reasons, a few weeks later when it was him [who was sick at home](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2690660). He not used clear words, it was all between the lines.

 

The thing between them was not only exhausting, it was devastating too. And they pushed their game almost too far when they sat in his trailer, forehead on forehead [playing out a kiss that only existed in words. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2564396)

 

After that Peter found himself sitting in his stool scribbling like a madman into his notebook, absent minded. And when he looked it was her [he had drawn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3205115). Maybe he should feel remorse, he wondered, and there were time he did and there were time he didn’t because one does not chose what to feel and how. Instead of thinking about how it would end, he spent considerable time to muse over it when it had started. What ever had started.

 

He tried to narrow it down to a moment, to a word, maybe to this day, when she had shown him the Tardis and how to fly this thing. When she had made him totally amazed, by pressing a hidden button, so the ship would come alive, the moment he yanked down the lever.

Maybe the whole thing had been doomed, the day they had announced him to be the next Doctor.

 

Jenna saw him think about it, she saw when his face became stern and his eyes were fixed on a lost point in the past. A pen in hand, pressed on the paper, but not drawing. There were days she came to her apartment in the late evening, exhausted and tired, falling in her bed, thinking about him. About the picture he gave, while sitting there, spinning the rings on his finger - not lost but wandering.

 

It was not her right to say more as she already had, and she was glad they were both busy doing the world tour, even that it meant, they spent even more time together. All the interviews and press appointments stopped them from thinking too much, but not from praising each others talent and how joyful it was to work with each other. That’s what colleagues do. It helped not much on another level, were two people adored each other. There the complementing words echoed in their ears, got placed on a scale to weigh each and every word of it’s real meaning.

 

After eleven days, he stood in front of her, exhausted and frustrated, saying her he couldn’t, not in this life and the only thing they could do was hold onto [each other in a desperate hug. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2778311)

 

Some may think, things had been settled there and couldn’t get anymore dramatic. How wrong, how dare to think like that! Cos Christmas was coming and so was the filming of the special and after [one night being locked](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2886521) in together the only thing they could do that night was talk. And when they both looked back at 2014 at new years eve, apart from each other, they came to the conclusion that this seemed to have been the moment, where they gave into each other. A little bit.

The shy kiss they shared - [all accidental ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2771690)\- on the last day of the Christmas Special, spoke volumes about it. Nobody would hear it, because they never told anyone.

 

And so a restless year came to an end.

  
  
  



	2. ...this is where we go...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year 2015 has started. They are back for work together. Time goes on, and then there is a read through that will change everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided, after my second chapter got way to long, I break it into Chapter 2 and 3.

The year 2014 came to an end, and when they met again for a new round of filming in January 2015 it was a little bit for them, like coming home. Yes, they had their own homes and families back in London, they still loved and missed under week, but here in Cardiff, when they were around each other it kept the homesickness away and made them enjoy the time they shared together. They were not only happy to film again, to do a good job, they were also happy to have each other again. Doing the silly voices again and the hide and seek. 

Nevertheless things had changed once more, on the set, where secrecy was now a number one topic, after fans and media had found them way too often on their locations last year. 

The time when they were together was shorter this year, and first they didn’t even realize, because they were both busy. Conventions here and making promo clips for Doctor Who there. Peter did a lot of charity, while Jenna attended a few conventions and film premiers and had some filming without Peter. And then Peter was involved in the ten years anniversary of NewWho and three month flew by without them having an evening dinner together as they usually had to chat about the day and the filming. They used to find time to talk about their roles and how they wanted to push the story further. Now, they did this mostly while the read through or between takes. 

To Jenna it felt like they were in a haste, and it probably wasn’t a presumption. When Peter’s birthday had showed up on the calendar, she gathered her courage one afternoon, while he sat aside her learning lines, “I can’t believe it is mid of April already.”

He nibbled at his pen, frowning at the pages and she thought for a moment he wasn’t listening, when he shoved his glasses into his hair, to look at her quizzically, “Is it? Mid of April?” he shook his head free of the lines that still lingered there. “Of course it is. Yes, yes.”

His answer puzzled her, not because he sounded confused, what was typical him when learning lines, it was more the soft touch of denial that hung over him. Every time she had asked about time and upcoming events, he seemed to flinch away from the fact, that time passed on. 

“It’s your birthday, tomorrow,” she smiled excited, having him bought a little nice card with a Dalek in front of it, she would give him in the morning.

Seeing her so cheerful over his birthday, made him bring a short grin to his face. He not wanted to disappoint her with an expression that clearly would tell her, that he didn’t give much about his birthdays. It was a nice day, surely, some cake, all the people saying nice things, but he was beyond the _‘oh my god it’s my birthday’_ feeling since at least 20 years. “Yeah, right, how old am I anyway?”

“Eight?” Jenna suggested with a smirk.

It made him laugh, “Eight? I thought you would say twelve.” 

“I wanted, but then...I think you are more like a eight year old sometimes,” she glanced at his hand, that doodled a birthday candle into his script. “Any wishes?”

He placed the pen aside, knowing his hand was about to develop a life of its own, what was dangerous in her presence, instead he ruffled his now long hair, “I have nothing I really want, not in a material sense of a present. I’m a lucky man, Jenna, I don’t need anything anymore,” he glanced down the set, watching people set up the next scene. “They will give me some cake again, I assume?”

Jenna knew what they would give him, but did as if she didn’t and shrugged, “How shall I know?”

“Oh, Jenna-Louise,” he leaned toward her. “Sometimes your acting skills loosening their magic.”

She hit him with her open palm on his upper arm. “Oh, you!”

Usually he would act all staggered from her hit, but this time he simply watched her hand rise, hit him and retreat. His eyes stuck to her hand for way too long, “You haven’t done that since a while.”

“What? Hitting you?” she chuckled, reaching for her coffee mug. “I’m not such a violent woman as you make me believe, only because I sometimes poke you.”

“No,” he looked at her, all serious and Jenna noted the hint of sadness. “Touching me.”

“We hug every morning we see each other,” she tried to laugh it off, believing he wanted to tease her, but the way he looked at her, made her think twice. It wasn’t about the hugs.

“Before we… before Christmas, we were more tactile,” he inhaled, finding relieve in the fact, that he finally had said it. When she didn’t answered him, he only smirked and then turned back to learning his lines, hoping to convince her, that it was not all that important, only a observation. 

When he turned away, she was about to open her mouth, but the words didn’t came out and so she closed it again, giving herself a little bit more time for a second try. So long she watched him read over the lines, making a note here and there or underlining important passages. She smiled over the picture he gave, like an eager student, with silver curls and fancy reading glasses. She wouldn’t admit it, but she had a soft spot for his reading glasses. 

“You know, that I know, that you are staring at me?” he began, not looking away from the page. “I am not on fire, or something?”

She met eyes with him, still unsure what to say, still trying to figure out why they didn’t touch anymore, and why he didn’t like to talk about future things. She had an assumption for which she had not enough proof yet, so she did the only thing that seemed right. Showing him he was wrong, in whatever he believed what stood between them. Clapping her script close, she stood up and stepped quickly at his side, shoving one of her hands into his hair, starting by his temples. His hair had become rather long and her tiny hand almost vanished in the sea of grey and silver curls. 

He needed to shift when she approached him, so he could look up, but instead of words she caught his unawareness with actions. A brush with her hand. Digging down into his hair, tousling it while the palm of her hand pushed him softly away and he automatically leaned against the touch, making it more intimate. It was as quickly over as it had started, but the memory of the contact between them echoed for long seconds on their skin. 

When her hand had routed through his thick hair and had slipped off of his head, he went with the movement, only to realize he needed to get a grip again and leaned into the other direction, inhaling sharply.

The corner of her lips twitched, having noticed the slip of control, the need to follower her, only to extent the time of the touch as long as possible, “I think you maybe need a haircut.”

He didn’t dare to ruffle through his askew hair, afraid it would shoo away the impression of her touch, still tingling on his scalp. 

“Maybe I do,” he rested his chin onto his hands, smirking into her direction. 

The incident allowed them more room again, eased the tenseness that had grown over the last month inside of them. It couldn’t hide the fact, that something was happening. That time was moving on. Merciless and it hurt. 

It was this, what he couldn’t acknowledge, that time moved on, and that the time they had together would come to an end. What is there to say? To tell her why he avoided to talk about the future, would mean, to accept what would come. The role of the Doctor had got into his head a bit much, he thought from time to time. Mostly when he wanted to grab her hand in real life to run away - in a time machine, that wasn’t there. Denial was everything Peter had. 

And Jenna? Jenna saw the ending coming, and saw that he wouldn’t talk to her about it. Not yet, he would sit out the time, the tiny rest that was left. She reckoned, he would be silent about her leaving till August, to push it away as long as he could, because it didn’t wanted to overshadow the last four month with her. Talking about it, would mean to him, it would be always there. In every conversation, in every moment their shared together. She could push him, make him talk, she had will and power over him, but he would not forgive her for doing so. 

_Poor Peter,_ she thought, _how wrong you are. How wrong to believe, we still have four month left._

#

Four weeks later, they had an read through appointment, and like all the other read through's before, Steven were again all secrecy and had kept the scripts away from them as long as possible. They would start to shoot the episode in a few days, and would be done shooting it in like three weeks. 

Peter didn’t had any shooting for a few days, and when he picked up Jenna from her apartment, as he usually did, she first noticed his heavy scruff. 

She hopped into the car, leaning over for a short hug, “Hey, how are you?” and when she leaned back, she saw he hadn’t shaved but suppressed the want to touch his cheek. “Oh.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her comment, figuring what the reason was, “Oh, what?”

“Did something happen to your razor?” she buckled herself up, giving him a cheeky grin.

Laughing, he started the engine and started driving, “No, he is safe and sound. I was just too lazy. You don’t like it?”

“Aside you really look like a space hobo-”

“A space hobo?”

“Yes, the internet calls you like this, a space hobo. Since you have been seen with a new costume.”

“Is this good, or is this bad?” he gave her a quick glance before making a turn.

“I think it’s good,” she observed his scruff again. “I like it.”

“What exactly?” he leaned a bit over, keeping his eyes on the road. “The name or the hair in my face?”

Her answer was a pursing of her lips, and a dot toward the street when he had turned his attention to her, after she hadn’t answered him, “Don’t be so inquisitive.”

“Inquisitive! Now the lady has spoken. Fine, I won’t ask anymore,” he smirked, rubbing with one hand over his chin.

From there on they became silent. Only when Jenna stretched her neck around a few times as if it was strained, Peter spoke up again. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…,” she pinched one of her fingers. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Bad dream?” he asked casually.

She turned her head, observing him for a moment, while his eyes hectically searched for a gap in the morning rush hour. She could change the topic or brush it off with a short answer, but something in her made her answer, “No, it’s… my head is so full these days,” he nodded slowly, understanding what she meant, “I think too much I guess.”

They reached a red light, and after Peter had count to ten in his head, and the light still hadn’t switched he glanced at the glove compartment, remembering the one time they were stuck in the tunnel, and Jenna had discovered that he always had a sonic screwdriver with him. He smirked over the memory and asked; “So what you are thinking about?” 

“What?”

“What are you thinking about? You said, your head is full with… thoughts.. and,” clearing his throat it dawned on him what this conversation would be about, “and I wanted to know what you are thinking about.”

The traffic went on.

Jenna leaned forward away from her seat, tensing up her back muscles and then fell back hard with a huff, “Seriously?”

Peter didn’t dare to look at her, sensing that her mood had shifted, “Seriously what?”

She laughed up helplessly, looking out of the window as if to find an answer to the many questions and the hundred thoughts that were clashing together in her head in this moment. 

“Sorry, but… you’re asking me, what is going on in my head, yes?”

“Y-yes?” 

“And you want to have this conversation now, in this car, right before-” she needed to interrupt herself. 

Was this happening? After all these weeks of waiting that he would speak up, that he would give into her soft pressure and silent pleas for a talk, he had decided for the worst but also last possible moment to talk about them. 

His fingers grabbed hard around the wheel, till his knuckles turned white. It had been a stupid thing to do, to kick off this conversation. A talk that had been necessary since forever, but he had been unable to foresee that she would take his innocent question about her well being and would turn with it into the direction he had avoided all the time. He had been on guard all these times, and now a little mistake had brought him here. 

“Before what?” he asked, sensing there was something important hidden in her not finished sentence.

Suddenly she wanted to jump out of the car, make him stop and run away as fast, and as far as possible. Now it was her, who didn’t wanted to talk. The feeling that she would cry any minute urged its way through her body. 

“Why are you doing this?” she finally blurted out. 

They were about to reach the filming area and the building where they had the read through. 

Peter didn’t know what to do, yanking the wheel around to drive to the parking spots, “What the hell am I doing?”

The engine died and he released the seatbelt, placing both his hands on top of the wheel before turning toward her, “I am sorry.”

It was not what she had expected, “You are sorry?” It was good to know he was, but also she was not sure what exactly he meant. “Could you be more precise?”

The tip of his shoes hammered against the floor of the foot well. They didn’t have time to talk about this now, the read through would start in twenty minutes. “The read through-”

“Fuck, the read through!” Jenna yelled, immediately regretting her reaction, holding up one of her hands to show him she was sorry. 

His hands glided into his lap and he watched his hand fumble with the hem of his jumper - it was the holey one. For a minute no one said anything, they only stared out of the window, hoping something would happen, like a sudden idea how to solve all this. 

Jenna exhaled loudly, her head dropping a bit, that her hair fell in front of her face, so Peter wouldn’t see, that her eyes were all wet, “I am sorry.”

The way she said it, he knew it wasn’t an apology for her outburst, “What for?”

She closed her eyes, “Listen,”

_this is just a dream_

“when the day is over, you gonna hate me, and I am sorry. I tried. And now.. I am fucking sorry, okay. Just,... just remember this.”

Their eyes met for a moment, and with a quick sniffle, she released her own seatbelt and jumped out of the car before he could say something. 

He watched her enter the building with hurried steps, and it seemed to him as if she wiped away tears out of her face. Why was she crying? He slammed the car door shut to join her in the read through room.

#

The number of people in the room, who participated in the read through, were assessable. Steven handed out the scripts one by one, like a school teacher and when he came to Peter and Jenna, who as always sat aside each other, he hesitated for a moment and earned a quizzical look from Peter. 

“Do we have to sign now, for getting one?” he asked offhand, still overwhelmed from his and Jenna’s dispute. 

Steven ignored his mood, seeing Jenna not looking at him or Peter, only after long seconds, she leaned back, holding out her hand. 

He thought about saying something, but decided not to, and gave them both the last two scripts, “Let’s get going.”

Page by page got finished and were dealt with, and after half of the script and so half of the episode Peter started to shift in his seat, starting to sense something. Something was up. Something would happen, and with each line, with each page that got turned he became aware that he had missed the long given indications that day. He needed to forbid his eyes to run over the text every time he flipped a page, because every time his stomach cramped together and his heart doubled its pace. 

He shifted again, looking at Jenna, not only looking, he glared. She gave him only a short side glance before ignoring him. It was not because she was still angry, no, that it wasn’t, he felt that it was something else. She was frightened. 

Then they came to the last big dialogue and then he knew. Foreboding became certainty with the first words he had to speak. They didn’t betray nothing, it was a very well written script, but Peter knew, he knew how the script would end. 

While he already knew what would happen, it only dawned slowly in the mind of the others, and the room was suddenly filled with thick anticipation. 

Jenna spoke her text more in a whisper, not knowing how to fight back the tears that would fall down her face soon. When she finished her line, Peter didn’t went on. He waited for her to look at him, face him the man she had kept away her secret and that’s what she did after a felt eternity. 

He bit the inside of his cheeks till it hurt, “Oh, Clara, my Clar-” his voice broke and he shut the script close, looking over to Steven. “I think it’s enough for today.”

Peter didn’t even wait for an answer, he shoved himself back with his chair and turned to the side. Placing his hands on the table and the backrest, he stopped for a moment to look at Jenna, who stared down the script, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Then he left, hearing Steven say something about a break and good work.

Wandering around for a bit he returned to the room, to grab his coat and bag. Everyone was gone, the scripts taken away again and only his red pen still laid on the table aside his water bottle. 

Jenna’s bag and utensils were too still there and after he had packed his bag, he heard the door go open and shut again behind him. 

He sat down, not turning around, one hand in his lap, the other on the table, waiting for her. First she did nothing but stand there, and then he placed the hand that was on the table onto the backrest of her chair and pulled it out with a scratching sound on the floor. It seemed like a command, but when he tilted his head so she could see his profile she saw it was a plea. So Jenna sat down waiting for him to speak up.

“Why didn’t you say something?” his voice was calm.

“Peter…”

“Why! Didn’t you say something? Anything! A word, a warning!” 

Jenna turned toward him, “You were not listening! You were hiding and avoiding! I wanted to tell you about it, right after I had told Steven that I wanted to leave the show earlier. But every time I talked about the future, you changed the damn topic and brushed it off!”

His tongue licked violently over his lips, with a smacking sound. She was right. “You could have made me listen.”

And there he was right. “I thought, you didn’t care in the end.”

“What? You…,” he jumped up from his chair, pacing around one of the corners - the tables were put in a U-form. _‘Do you think I care for you so little?’_ “I can’t believe, that you thought that.”

“I actually can’t believe this too, right now,” she gave it a sigh. “But Peter, you knew, I wouldn’t stay another season. So where is the difference, if I leave in four weeks or in three month.”

“From the outside, it might makes no difference,” he had placed his hands onto one table, leaning forward. She waited for a moment, sensing there would come some further ‘inside’ explanation, but he kept his mouth closed, biting the inner of his cheek, taping one of his feet against the floor, like he had done in the car. 

“You are angry,” she broke the silence. 

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you angry because I leave or because I didn’t say something?”

“Neither,” one hand ran through his hair over his neck toward his chin, where he scratched his beard. “I am angry about myself. I wanted to fix this. And now I don’t know if I will be able to.”

Jenna kept silent. _This_. It was always and only called _this_ , because every other word would mean acknowledgement and this again would mean to do something about it _before_ it came to an forced end. Jenna’s early leave. 18 month they had done nothing about it, just had _this_ let wander around them like a stray cat that didn’t wandered off anymore. It simply stayed, sitting there and staring them both in the face, and waited what would happen. 

“How about, _you_ tell me, what _this_ actually is?”

He made his left hand to a fist, till his knuckles cracked. “I could ask you the same, and you would dwell on an answer as I do right now. You know we can’t put it in words and... “

“And?” she watched him come around again, grabbing his bag.

“I can’t do this now, I don’t want to do this now,” he dug around in his pockets for his car keys. “You just let me run into a knife, Jenna. Only thirty minutes ago I got the message you are leaving the show, like some regular stand in. Do you know how that feels? I feel like shite, that’s not how yer trade a friend, Jenna!” he was still tapping all his pockets for his key, getting impatient and angrier - also more Scottish - with every word. “Yer could have done it another way, but you chose not to do so and that fucking hurts. We are friends, yeah? I don’t fucking feel treated like one! .. Jesus, where the hell are those fucking keys?”

Jenna had listened well to the telling off he had given her, feeling terrible inside, because some sort he was right and also wrong, but it was not the moment to discuss this. “There in your bag, you put them always in the inner pocket of your bag.”

Peter ripped the clasp of the bag open and finally found his keys and muttered a thank you. 

“So I take, you not giving me a ride back?” 

He totally had forgotten, that he had picked her up, “There are cabs you know.”

She hid her disappointment with a flippant, “Oh, yes, great.”

The way she said it made him turn on his heels, “Here, take the darn keys, take the darn car,” he grabbed her hand and placed the keys into it. “I’ll take a cab.”

Before she could react, he had stormed outside the door. Jenna slumped her body down into the chair and buried her face into her hands, “This is bad, this is so fucking bad.”

“I am sorry,” a voice reached her ears. The caretaker. “I wanted to lock the room.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” she apologized and grabbed her bag.

“Are you alright, Miss Coleman?”

“Not sure,” she smiled sadly. “I think I’m getting divorced.”

“Divorced? I didn’t know you are married?” the older man stared at her with wide open eyes, and his confusion made her chuckle. 

“Yeah, me neither,” she sighed and left to drive home with Peter’s car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will come soon! I hope you liked this one, leave a comment if you want. Thanks for the read!!


	3. ... and here we end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final part of my three chapter fic. Peter and Jenna have a talk about "this". And then there is the last day they have together. How will it end? Also, fulfilling a 6 month old request of an ending like in "Lost in Translation".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go, last bit of a massive long fic.  
> I wrote a metaphor in this chapter, and I honestly don't know if it's a good one. I decided it is either great or total sh*t. It's yours to decide. Read the end notes for further explanation about some things I mention here.

Jenna had parked the car in front of the house, guessing he would either pick it up or she would take it tomorrow to the set, so he could drive home from there. For a moment she thought about calling him, but she decided against it and shoved her cell phone away.

Two hours later her phone rang and she knew in an instant that it was him, it was about the way her heart jumped in a mix of distress, excitement and anticipation.

“I was an arse,” he said as soon as the ringing stopped.

“I should have said something,” was her answer.

The both began to snicker over their stupidity.

“That maybe sounds a bit creepy, but... I stand in front of your apartment,” he softly knocked at the door. “Can I come in?”

Jenna eyed the apartment door, “That’s really a bit creepy.” She walked over and knocked at the door. She could hear Peter chuckle over the phone and on the other side of the door responding to her knock.

“I’d walked all the way home,” she could hear how his forehead softly pumped against the door to rest there.

She frowned at the door, “Why?”

Peter needed to laugh about himself again, “I had no money with me. It’s in the flippin’ car.”

Placing a hand onto the wood, she imagined him leaning against it on the other side, “Serves you right.”

“Yeah, I know,” not knowing about, he copied the gesture with his hand, listening to her breathing over the phone. “I am here to fix this, Jenna.”

“This?”

“Our friendship,” he raised his head again, his fingertips trailing over the door. He knew _‘this’_ was not their friendship, but it was the only thing he could actually save. Their friendship was at stake and would end soon, when they would not come to a conclusion about their so long suppressed feelings for each other. “Do you let me in?”

Jenna ended the phone call and opened the door. She saw, he had reached home after his little walk, and had changed and had shaved. He held a small shopping bag in his hands, leaning forward. “Can I come in?”

She stepped aside without saying something and he gave her a quick nod, directly striding into her living room. “You like books right?”

Confused of his lack of explanation, she leaned against the doorframe and waited for him to repeat the question. “Who doesn’t?”

It earned her an expression of him, that said _‘Darling, it seems you haven’t seen the world yet.’_

She answered it with a shrug and held up her hands, _‘I have high hopes in this world.’_

“Tell me your two favourite books,” he reached into the bag and pulled out two hardcover books, but without the cover that was usually around them. One was blue and the other grey.

“Two of my favourite books?” she wasn’t sure where this would go, but decided not to question him. Slowly she walked over to the couch, while he had sat down in the armchair, the books in his lap, waiting for her answer. “Right now-”

“No!” he stopped her, holding a black marker in his hand. “Not right now. I mean your two most favourite books, the two books, you always will return too.”

“Peter?”

“Jenna,” he made a gesture to make clear it was important. “Two. Titles. Please.”

Huffing, she sat down onto the couch, “Fine. Ahm.. let me think… _The Little Prince_. A classic. Love it, always.”

“Good choice,” he smiled, opening the pen and wrote the title onto the blue book.

“What are you doing?”

“There are my books, it doesn’t matter,” he switched the books and waited for her second title. “And number two?”

“Uhm.. _Night Train to Lisbon._ ”

“Ah, that’s really a good one,” Peter whispered all agitated and visible vibrating with energy and nervousness, writing down the title onto the grey book.

“Alright,” he placed the two books with a thud onto the table, shoving them into the middle, so Jenna could read the words. “Two books. The best books. The one you care and … love. One could do it with three or four, but we do it ... with two.”

“Is this-”

He rose a finger. “Make a decision.”

“What do you mean?”

“Choose one of the books.”

“One?”

“The Professor or the Prince,” he doted on each of them.

“Then,.. I choose…,” her eyes darted between the two books around for a bit, then she settled onto the blue one, “ _‘The Little Prince’_.” Jenna somehow waited for him to ask him why, but instead he moved the book toward her, the other he took and placed it behind his back, so it was out of sight. “Wait, what are you doing with the other?”

“It’s gone.”

“What do you mean, it’s gone?” she looked at him in misunderstanding.

“You chose one book, and the other is gone. You can’t have it.”

Jenna turned the book she had chosen in her hands around, reading the title of it, it was actually a historical novel about Scotland.

“Uhm.. alright,” she frowned at Peter, who was sitting in the armchair, leaning back with a smile that seemed like a triumph. “Is this... a metaphor?”

His smile grew wider, “Yes, it is.”

Flipping the book in her hands for a bit, to think about this so called metaphor, she suddenly dropped the book back onto the table, “I want to have the other one.”

His grin turned into a gentle smile. “It’s not possible,” also he brought the book back into sight, showing it her, even flipping through the pages. “You chose this, … the other one.”

“It’s still there, I can see it, I want to have it,” she demanded.

Peter was not sure if she knew for sure what his game was about, and if she was teasing or simply collecting the last clues for her conclusion. “You see it. Here, I allow you to look close at it,” Jenna reached out to touch it and so he pulled it away. “No, you can’t have it, Jenna.”

“That’s stupid!” she said impudent.

“I know,” he saw her brain work on it, and took pity on her. “What I want to say is, that sometimes, you are very happy with one thing, because it is in your life since forever and you love and care about it. But it doesn't mean, that you stop wanting other things. You chose this particular book, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting another, even you are very happy with this one. It’s not like you have a free will in this. It’s like walking around and then another book catches your attention - and you are unguarded. The problem is, you see it every day, get reminded, but you can’t have it. Sometimes you are very close to it, but you never can have it fully.”

Jenna held the book close, “I am not allowed to touch. Not allowed to read,” he slowly nodded. “And not allowed to talk about it.”

“Yes.”

“And that is very exhausting and a bit devastating?” her hand rubbed over the rough cover.

“I can confirm that. Yes,” he placed the book back onto the table and then fell back into the armchair, giving her a long, sad gaze.

She held his gaze, hoping he would read in her expression that she understood. The book she held in hand, landed aside the other one, “This is a very fucked up metaphor about the two of us.”

It made him laugh, “It’s not the best, Jenna, but it is not that fucked up. Also I have to admit, it fits the circumstances, so yeah, it is fucked up.“

He forgave her for leaving the show earlier, and she forgave him his reaction about it. They knew all this would come to an end. The parting of the ways and them moving on. No more dinners, no more playing around on set with the runners. It would take a while to get used to days without each other, after months of being around each other like having a shadow. It would hurt and would leave a wound. It would heal eventually, leaving a scar, - hurting when the weather was bad. A reminder. Some events, some people you don’t forget.

 

_**Four weeks later - two hours after Jenna’s last scene** _

Jenna walked up to the console, to her favourite section, crossing the section Peter usually stood, by the main levers and gave it a fond smile. Everything in this room was connected with a fond memory. The light was dimmed, as if the Tardis was in Stand By. She eyed the two blue balls, one already replaced, given by Peter, the momentum had found a special place in her home in London.

It didn’t stop her to place her hand over one, and she started to spin it.

Peter watched from his corner, not moving and barely breathing, she hadn’t noticed him. He had retreated from the little party twenty minutes ago, searching the silence of the Tardis set, to grief a while by himself. Sitting in the leather chair on the gallery, he smirked over her playful way of spinning the galaxy thingy again, slightly shaking his head.

And just when he was about to tell her, she would break it again;

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna break it again,” she stopped the ball with her palm, not turning, only smiling over the face he probably just made.

“How-?”

“I always know,” she turned around, walking up to his part of the console to eye him better.

He stood now by the staircase, looking down at her, “Do you?”

She waited for him to come down, “Yes, as _you_ know too. We both always know.”

He stopped in front of her, leaning himself casually against the console, one hand steadying himself there, “We have worked long enough together.”

“You know it’s not only that,” she pushed down one of the buttons, but nothing happened with the Tardis.

Peter’s look flickered shortly to the button she had pressed, pursing his lips, smirking at her he said, “I know.”

It was the talk they never really had. The admittance they never really made.

“Saying goodbye to the Tardis?” he shook the sad feeling inside of him off for a moment, looking up to the core and Jenna followed his gaze.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Even she didn’t liked me at first. Maybe because I broke her on my first day.”

He chuckled, “I am sure she will miss you too.”

His eyes were on her, while she fondly brushed over the metal, memorizing all the little gimmicks there were. As if she never had before, as if she had realized, she had to take now a closer look because it was probably the last she could take. There was rumour they would redecorate in series 10. She wouldn’t like it of course.

In the almost two years they had worked together, Jenna had developed a fine sense for his words, of their real meaning and had learned what was said and written between the lines.

“It’s not like I’m gonna vanish or something,” she faced him again.

What could he say to this instead of, “I know.”

She would not vanish, she just left the show, for moving on, doing other things. Being in films on telly and the cinema. They would meet up again, probably sooner as they thought at this moment. On red carpets or charity events. An award show or for an Q&A about Doctor Who. The contact wouldn’t be gone, only because she left the show. What would be gone, were the little moments between them. The privacy they had on set. The hiding spots, only they knew. The comforting times between shooting, when they sat aside each other in their stool, learning lines, sharing a coffee and talking about the day. Peter would stay in Cardiff or sometimes London and Jenna would travel the country and the world for filming and movie premiers. No time for a late dinner after an exhausting day of filming. No more jokes about his penguin run from her, when they needed to jog up and down the costume department to see if the clothes and shoes would be fine for the next chase. No more played sulking expression of his, no grumbling, till she would apologise with a hug. All that would be gone.

The next thing she said, surprised him, “There were moments I thought _this_ would never end. And I wished for it,” she shook her head over her naive ideas. “Like a young kid, hoping the ride would go on and on and on.”

The surprise yielded, only to be replaced by sadness, a stinging pain, formed out of the fact that he always thought the same. In his head, there was always only she and him. From the beginning till to the end. If she would have decided to stay for another series, he would have decided to regenerate with her in the end. Leaving the Tardis, with her, not without her, not left behind - no, at the same time. The shared moments would have gone too then, but at least he wouldn’t had to stay, and be reminded of her every second.

He didn’t tell her about this, the chance had passed anyway, and nothing could be changed anymore. He caught her glance, reading in her, and there he knew, that she might always had known about his secret plan.

Steven would have let her stay another series, but she couldn’t do it, what didn’t meant she not wanted to. Peter and her had begun to slowly broke apart and the battle of staying together as friends had been all too prominent for her and had got harder every day.

They walked a line, that lead to a destination they never ever could reach, and that was all too exhausting and a third series with him would have caused an unseen catastrophe between them. The dear friendship, what was left of it, would have broken apart.

“Jenna…,” he begun, and for an actor who was good with words, who was able to turn words into meanings, he was suddenly not sure what to say. Every confession sounded dull or wrong in his head.

“Don’t say it,” she faked a light expression, but was having a heavy heart.

“You don’t even know what I want to say, lass,” he urged down the need to cry.

“Of course I know, and you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I see you,” she didn’t know what to do with her hands and decided to press a few other buttons. “And you see me." And when she had presses all possible buttons she added, "We had the best of times.”

“Oh, yes we had,” all the memories, god, how he would miss her.

“But everything ends,” she folded her hands in front of her, directly looking at him. Her stern expression dropped and a smirk started to curl up her lips.

Yes, he indeed saw her and they said both in unism,

“No, not everything, not-” The laugh that escaped both of them, was more relaxed than the situation was.

“I gonna miss you!” he made a little step closer. “Like in, _‘to hell with another companion’,_ I gonna miss you.”

“You just want to make me cry,” she sniffled, beaming at him.

Then suddenly a door went open and one of the assistens poked their head inside, “Jenna? Your cab is ready!”

“Thanks, tell it, I am there in a minute!”

Her hand padded the console one last time, “Give him hell.”

“I am sure she will,” Peter smirked, slowly walking with her to the Tardis door.

Awkwardly they stood there, not knowing how to do this. Finally Jenna pulled him into a short hug, “I gonna call you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, watching her step outside the door.

Peter counted till five, then he reached for the handle and followed. The Tardis set was inside a big hall and a longer floor went down toward the exit door. No one was around. Jenna walked slowly glancing around, taking everything in for the last time. Maybe she would come back on day. Maybe not. With Doctor Who everything was so unpredictable.

“Hey!” he called, slowing down a bit when she turned around, a smile on her face. For a moment he had this special expression on his face, the one of a predator, it was quickly replaced by a gentle and soft smile. Two steps more and he stood very close in front of her, focusing at her. Long seconds went by, for once time waited for them. Then he pulled her into a hug. His hands on her back, one moving up to entangle his fingers with her hair, making gently circles with his fingers on the back of her head.

She had to go on her tip toes, her nose buried in his jacket by his collarbone, inhaling deeply his scent, a mix of aftershave and Capaldi, her arms tight around his waist, clutching to his back. If there ever was a moment, she wanted to pause, this one was it.

Peter brought his mouth to her ear and whispered something into it, still holding her head, making sure, she would understand each word he told her. Jenna smiled, her own hand had reached unconsciously into his curls on his neck and hummed in agreement.

“Okay?” he finished, not letting go of her yet. “Okay,” she whispered under tears.

He didn’t care if someone would come in. He had cared and worried all along, too much, till every chance had been eaten up by the forcing nature of crushing time.

The minute, she had talked about earlier, for the cab, was long up, and so he softly leaned away, seeing her red eyes.

He smiled softly and leaned down, finally kissed her - out of free will, not out of accident or because a script wanted him to do so. He kissed her, knowing it would never happen again, kissed her with the force of missed chances, and of an era coming to an end. Both his hands held her face and he kissed the woman he considered his friend, his pal and knew she was not only this. She was the one thing, that was impossible.

She kissed him back, all innocently, but felt the need in it, the admission he laid into it and tried to keep the contact as long as possible, and make the remorse worth it in the end.

They smiled at each other, when he broke away with his lips, knowing he had done the right thing, in a total picture others considered wrong, they had painted over the last 18 month.

“My dear companion,” he leaned in again, pressing a lovingly kiss on her cheek. “My impossible woman. Bye.”

“Bye,” she answered, her voice slightly breathy from the lump in her throat. Looking at him, how he slowly walked away, back to the other exit. Turning around, walking backwards so he could see her as long as possible, his lanky arms swinging around, and he hoped he would not fall over anything.

She smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, and the feeling of sorrow and sadness got replaced by happiness, when she saw him grin. Proud of what he did, of what they had achieved - of them.

He walked backwards, till he knew he needed to turn around. Peter gave her a last wave with his hand, still grinning and then turned around.

Only then, Jenna, with one last sniffle, turned around too to make her way to the the end of the hall. She glanced one last time around, seeing him reach the door, and then she went outside.

The last glimpse of her, he caught, when he turned around by the open door, was her stepping out of the hall, out of his life into a new adventure.

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets, watching how the door fell shut. He smiled - a sad smile. Peter stepped outside into the breezy air, looking around to see two people move one of the big green screens away, and he chuckled when a Tardis got revealed. For the fraction of a second he believed he saw two shadows hand in hand run into it.

An old memory. She was seared into his heart. He sighed long, staring down the floor, smiling. So, that’s how the Doctor feels when losing a companion.

There are things, you never get used to it. Goodbyes as example.

No, goodbyes are never easy.

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assume every one of you knows "The Little Prince"? But maybe not everyone knows "Nightrain to Lisbon" It is a really good book, very deep, about an older professor who meets a young woman (;o) ) in Bern, who is from Portugal, and that kicks off a journey to Lisbon and the revealing of past happenings in the life of an Portuguese doctor. (You should probably check wiki for the summery) It's not a love story, but a story about life. But I liked the start of the book with the professor and the woman, that's why I chose it as one of the books Capaldi uses in my fic.
> 
> I recommend to watch the ending scene of "Lost in Translation", its on YouTube and helps to get into the mood. 
> 
> I also want to point out, that everything here is fictional, but I used many little known facts, happenings we heard through the actors or the media (I can't say for sure how true they were) and I have no idea if Jenna Coleman gonna leave earlier - I simply took rumours and I took my own observations and put it into this fic. I see this couple differently and I know many blogs/people, have certain opinions about what I do and RPF in general, but life is never what you see and I grasps this fics as some kind of real life AU. And I hope this "f*cked up" book metaphor made it a bit clearer how I see it. 
> 
> This is No. 40 of the Colepaldi Collection and my actual plan was/is, to stop for a bit, because, gosh I think I wrote almost everything out that is possible. I wrote about Angst, and Fluff and anything further is against rules. So I thought I take a break, for other fics I am writing and I want to write. But also, someone sent me a really nice funny prompt about Peter singing and I really like that one. So I probably quit writing the drama stuff and keep going with the light stuff. I can't tell. I am not stopping, but 40 is good number for taking a break. 
> 
> Yeah, anyway, I hope you enjoyed this very long fic and leave a comment or a kudo or message me on tumblr, if you like.
> 
> Thank you all, and enjoy yourself.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you liked it, leave a kudo or a comment and don't forget there will be a second Chapter!  
> Sorry for the mistakes, in this one I had to juggle with many tenses and I am sure I did wrong on many occasions.


End file.
